MHI Fan Fiction: Retaliation

[CameronS]

I guess reading all these other fan fictions inspired me. At any rate, here's my story; it's been running around inside my head for about a week. Sorry that it takes a little while to take off, I couldn't make it faster. Dunno why, really.

I'm not a very experienced writer, but I do enjoy it, so this might be great, it might suck. If you leave a comment, please be honest. If you think it's pathetic, let me know. If you think it's not bad, let me know that, too.

At any rate, here's my story. MHI: Retaliation . . .


Chapter 1 – How it Started.

If I’d known that a simple turkey hunt would have caused me this much trouble, I would have stayed home. I’d been at my desk at the time, one late Friday afternoon, banging out an email to a customer, when my phone rang. I stifled a moan; it was almost time to go home, and now I was going to be stuck with another customer. Damnitall. I tried to sound halfway cheerful as I picked up the phone:

“Lifeway Insurance, this is Todd, how may I help you?”

“Hey, bro, it’s Tony. What’s up?” I grinned and leaned back in my chair. It wasn’t a customer; it was Tony Urso, a second generation Italian, fellow insurance salesman, reloader extraordinaire, and longtime friend of mine.

“Not much, man. You?”

“Same. Hey, me and a few guys are going turkey hunting this Saturday; we wanted to know if you wanted to tag along.”

“Sounds great, who’s coming?”

“Uh, me, you, Ryan, Phil, and I think Josh too.”

I grinned again. Great group of guys. Ryan Jackson was a college friend of mine, former sheriff’s deputy, and now worked at a pawn shop. Phil Carroll was his cousin, and owned the pawnshop where Ryan worked. Josh Mason was a fireman for the county, and Tony’s college roommate. We would get together often to hang out, or hunt, or whatever.

“Josh is coming?”

“Think so. He says he might have to work, but that depends on if some other guy at the station gets over a cold.”

“Hm. Okay. What time?”

“We’ll leave at about . . . oh, say three Saturday morning?”

“Hell!”

“It’s a two-hour drive up there, and we’ll want to get there early.”

“Yeah, yeah . . . okay, who’s driving?”

“Phil. He’s got his new truck that can take all of us, and we can put the guns in the bed if it’s not raining.”

“Works for me, man.”

“Good. See you then.”

“Take care, Tony.” I hung up the phone and cleaned up my office, already in a cheerful mood. A turkey hunt would be pretty good; I hadn’t been in a few months.

I headed out of the building, my work day done. As I walked to the car, I tried to decide whether or not I should call Jean again. Jean was my current girlfriend, but we’d been having some rocky spots. I guess you could call it rocky, we hadn’t spoken in weeks, and I had a strong feeling she was seeing another guy. This bugged me more than a bit; it wasn’t like I was unattractive or particularly boorish. I was a 24 year old guy with a steady job, no beer gut, and a nice apartment. What was missing? I had actually posed this question to her once, and she had looked at me pityingly and said, “A heart!”

I’d thought that pretty stupid and told her so. Actually, that had been the beginning of our non-talking period. I’d debated calling her and apologizing, but decided I’d wait for her to call me first.

I ruminated over all this as I got into my car, a Honda Civic. I sat down and started up with a slight yelp. I’d sat on my carry piece. I cursed silently and check to make sure no one had seen as I shifted my XD out of my rump and closed the door.

 When I got home, I ordered a pizza and set to work readying my gear for the next day. I was planning to take my CZ Ringneck 201A and a few dozen rounds of #6 shot . . . that would work for the turkeys. I was such a crummy shot that I probably wouldn’t hit them anyway. After I ate, I watched a movie until I fell asleep on the couch, barely remembering to set my alarm.


That's the first chapter. Apologies if there are any technical errors (I have no clue what shot load you use for turkeys, or even when you hunt them. It just worked out for the story for them to be turkey hunting.)

Let me know what you think!

[CameronS]

Chapter 2 – Bear?

I staggered out to Phil’s waiting truck the next morning, feeling like death and wondering why I’d agreed to this. Ryan had coffee and some donuts waiting in the car. Stereotypes exist for a reason, but they helped me wake up.

“Dude, you look like hell,” Tony said as he scooted over to make room for me. Phil’s truck was a Ford F250, but five guys was about all it could take.

I grunted in agreement.

“What time you stay up to?”

“I don’t know? How ‘bout you?”

“I stayed up ‘til about 4 around midnight . . . you remember Shelly, that girl I told you about? Well, we went to Sullivan’s last night-”

Phil cut us off. “Hey, guys, listen to this!” He turned up the radio.

“-old that officials are planning to hire hunters to dispose of the animal. The animal in question is believed to be a bear and responsible for the deaths of three hikers in the area and a good deal of property damage. Walter County officials have responded to the complaints and have classified the creature as a nuisance. We can expect official word on this within the next several days. In other news, the Dow closed yesterday-“

Phil turned the radio off and turned to Josh. “Isn’t your cabin in Walter County?”

“Uh-huh. That’s where we’re hunting. Scared?”

“Hell, no, man. I’m just wondering if that thing’s been in your cabin. You did put some venison in there a few weeks ago when we went up.”

“Damn. You’re probably right. We’ll find out, I guess.”

We all continued to shoot the breeze all the way to Walter, talking about guns, girls, the bear, and who got the last filled donut.

Around five, we pulled into the dirt driveway of Josh’s isolated cabin. “Look’s fine,” Josh said hopefully, “Maybe he didn’t find it.”

He unlocked the front door and we all trooped in after him, shotguns over our shoulders. Josh cursed when he saw the shredded back door. “He’s been in here all right. Dang it.”

Tony collapsed onto the couch and pulled his Mossberg 500 out of its case. “No biggie, man. Just get a new door.”

“And a new frakking freezer,” Josh replied sourly, pointing at the destroyed remains of his icebox. “I had a whole deer in there . . .”

“How new was it?” Ryan asked, squatting down by the chewed-looking plastic.

“Fresh. As in, still oozing blood fresh.”

“Must have been hungry.”

“Yeah. Oh, well. Screw it. Who wants to go hunting?”

We all made noises of assent and finished off our coffee as we headed for the door.

[moose42]

Is it a zombie bear?

:-D  Welcome to the deranged Fan fiction writers club.   

[CameronS]

Action starts in this chapter . . . in other words, the story might actually get interesting. 

If you've read this far . . . thanks. 'Preciate it. I haven't sat down to write a serious story in several years, so this is rather fun.


Chapter 3 – “What the heck was that?!”

 “Just follow one of the trails out the back,” Josh instructed once we were outside, “Once you get to a field, set up there. Meet back here at one for lunch.”

We all dispersed down the trails. I stuck with Tony, and we ended up hunkering down overlooking a bare field. We talked quietly, occasionally doing a turkey call. We didn’t see many turkeys, but we did see a few nice bucks.

“Sweet,” Tony whispered, “What I wouldn’t give for my deer rifle right now.” I nodded, staring at the buck, faintly visible in the moonlight, who was looking right at us. How he knew we were there, I don’t know. Suddenly, several far off shots rang out. The deer, startled, bounded away into the forest.

“Guess someone’s got his,” I murmured. “That wasn’t a shotgun.”

“Guess so. Why’d he shoot so many times, though? That was like, five shots, man. Who the hell shoots five times at a deer?”

“I don’-, whoa!”

More shots were fired, and then stopped. “Must be plinking or something,” I said, looking around at the surrounding hills for a muzzle flash.

“With a deer rifle? I doubt it,” Tony responded. “Weird.”

After the flurry of shots, nothing unique happened for the rest of the morning. The sun rose behind us, and soon enough it was lunchtime. We headed back to the cabin, discouraged at the lack of turkeys around.


When we got back to the cabin, the talk was all of the shots. “Bet it was the police on the bear,” Phil said around a mouthful of sandwich. “Had to be.”

Ryan scoffed. “Police wouldn’t waste that much ammo on one piddly-ass bear.”

During lunch, it started to sprinkle, and then to pour. No one was in a hurry to get back out, so we ended up shooting the breeze in the cabin until dinner time. We ate our lunch leftovers and ate some old apples that the bear had ignored. It satisfied no one. By now the rain had stopped, but it was dark already because of the clouds.

“Well, the hell with this,” Josh declared, “Let’s just go. We can grab dinner somewhere and get back into town around ten.” There was general agreement around, and we piled back into the slightly damp truck (someone had left a window cracked). Tony, Josh, and I crammed into the back seat and Phil and Ryan took the front. Most of us zipped up our guns and threw them in the truck bed, but Ryan brought his with him and held it in his lap.

“What are you doing, Ryan?” Phil asked disgustedly, “You’re taking up space.”

“I paid $800 for this gun, and if you think I’m just going to sling it in the back, you’re nuts.”

“Freak. A gun’s a tool, not a-”

“Oh, shut the heck up and let’s go,” Tony moaned from the back seat, “Stop acting like a bunch of old ladies.”

We pulled out of Josh’s driveway and headed down the quiet, damp state road. We continued berating Ryan for his paranoia, when suddenly there was a loud thud from the truck bed. The truck bounced on its suspension and tires squealed. Phil hit the brakes and we skidded to a halt.

“What the heck was that?!” Tony yelled. I twisted my head around to look, but then the back window of the truck suddenly exploded.

[CameronS]

I had fun with this chapter . . . it's rather short, but hopefully not bad.


Chapter 4 – Inhuman

We all yelled in terror as hands shoved themselves through the shattered remains of the back window, groping madly. Phil flipped on the interior lights and went for his ankle gun, and I shoved my hand into my pocket, groping for my knife. My hand closed around the handle of my Spyderco Dragonfly, and I pulled it out and flicked it open.

“Get that bast___!” Tony shouted, straining away from the grasping hands. I complied. I brought the knife down as hard as I could on the left hand, cutting it to the bone and nearly slicing off the thumb. I immediately noticed two things. First was that the blood that sprayed from the gash was not red; it was black. Second, the cut remained for a second, squirting black fluid . . . and then steadily sealed itself back up.

“Oh, S__T!” Josh yelled from the middle seat of the back, ducking the still-groping hands. I stared in shock, pressed against the left-side door. There was no trace of the cut I had made.

Phil had his gun out now. He twisted around in his seat, a snubnose revolver in his hands.

“Move!” he bellowed. We complied, and Phil fired several times out the back window. He emptied all five rounds into faintly visible man shape in the truck bed. They had absolutely no effect.

“You missed!” I screamed.

“I did not!” Phil hollered back. Everyone was shouting now, it was all we could do to be heard. “I hit him five times!”

“Obviously f___ing not!” I yelled, straining to reach my XD. It was pinned against the door. “Seeing as he’s still f___ing there!”

I couldn’t reach my gun. I unbuckled my seatbelt and went to the floor to get farther away from the hands. I still couldn’t reach it in the cramped confines of the truck. I was going to have to get out. Damn it.

Right was I was reach for the handle, Ryan made his move. He had pulled his shotgun out of its case and shoved shells into it as fast as he could. He unbuckled his seat belt and swung around, the long barrel of the shotgun barely maneuverable in the truck. I gaped. A shotgun fired in a car?! He’d blow our ears out!

The whatever-it-was in the bed smashed in another panel on the back, nearly missing a petrified Josh. Oh, well, I could always get hearing aids.

“COVER YOUR EARS!” Ryan bellowed. Those of us that could did so, and Ryan fired three rounds of birdshot from his semiautomatic Benelli. The noise was deafening, but apparently it had some effect. The man in the back was knocked back a pace, and gave an freakish, almost inhuman scream of rage.

“Again, again!” Tony screamed, firing his Kimber CDP out the window, “Shoot him again!”

Ryan emptied his gun into the creature, and it slammed into the tailgate. Phil saw this and stomped on the gas. The truck took off, the black-blooded man toppling out of the bed. Almost before it had hit the ground, Phil threw the truck into reverse.

“What are you doing?!” I shrieked, by now nearly wetting myself. I soon saw. Two sickening bumps later, Phil had run over the creature, nearly 6,000 pounds of metal crushing it into the asphalt. Phil zoomed in reverse for another ten yards, then shifted into drive again and repeated the process, squishing the monster even flatter. He then spun a tight U-turn and stopped, the headlights illuminating the misshapen lump about fifteen feet ahead of us in the wet road.

We were all frozen for a moment, and then Ryan, tough former cop that he was, tersely said, “Reload.”

I hopped backwards out of the car, and, keeping a wary eye on the seemingly dead monster, managed to pull my XD with shaking hands and pointed it at the creature. Tony and Josh scrambled out after me, Tony with his reloaded CDP and Josh with his Glock 19. Phil climbed out ahead of us, his revolver reloaded with his final five rounds of .38 and trained on the monster. Ryan got out of the truck on the other side, reloading his shotgun as he went, also pointing it nervously at our adversary.

There was a brief pause as we gathered in front of the truck, no one sure what to do next. Phil made the first move.

“Roll over on your stomach,” he shouted, “Roll over!”

Nothing happened. “I think he’s dead, bro,” Tony said shakily.

I agreed. “We ran over it four times and shot it at least ten. It’s gotta be.”

“If you say so,” Josh said slowly, “Fine. Let’s go check it out. If it moves, I say we blow it to f___ing pieces.”

We moved slowly toward the downed man, Ryan in the lead with the shotgun and the rest of us spread out behind him, all pointing our weapons at the crushed man.

[Splodge Of Doom]

Hmmm.

Wight, am I right?

This is gonna be nasty.

[CameronS]

Thanks for reading!

And close . . . but no cigar. 

[moose42]

Lost your monster try checking underneath my tires.   

[CameronS]

Whoof. I'm exhausted. This chapter was intense to write . . . in an awesome sort of way.  



Chapter 5 – Not Dead Yet.

We were about ten feet from the creature when it gave a low moaning noise. We froze. “It’s awake,” Phil said nervously.

“You mean ‘alive’,” I shot back, my gun leveled at its crushed skull. Except it wasn’t crushed anymore. The pieces were slowly rotating and moving back to their normal positions!

“Oh, my Lord,” Tony whispered, “This thing will never die.”

The creature rocked to its knees, facing away from us. We didn’t wait for it to turn around; we all started firing at once. About 15 rounds of various caliber hit it in the head and back within two seconds, and it went down again. It staggered back to its feet, turning around, and for the first time we saw its face clearly.

It was a man. But unlike any man I had ever seen before. It was pale as death, and, when it opened its mouth to scream at us, had long, white teeth. Oh, my God. It was a vampire. No way. No way in Hell. I yelled in shock and terror as it began pacing deliberately towards us, seeming to smile mockingly as it soaked up round after round. We all backpedaled frantically, still firing, but Ryan stood his ground, staring down the barrel of his shotgun at the approaching demon.

“Ryan, RUN!” Josh yelled, kneeling in front of the truck, still firing, “Or at least shoot the damned thing!”

Ryan waited until the vampire was only a few feet in front of him and then emptied his shotgun into it as fast as he could pull the trigger. Half the monster’s head disappeared in sprays of black as six rounds of birdshot dug their way into its skull. Ryan dropped the shotgun and sprinted to the truck, pulling his carry piece as he went.

The vampire staggered around, its eyes destroyed the shotgun. By now, it was only ten feet away from the truck where we had gathered. All of us but Tony were kneeling in front of the truck, firing steadily into the blinded monster.

“Where’s Tony?” I shouted as I slammed my last magazine into my XD and ran the slide forward. “Where the hell is Tony?!”

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. We’d found Tony. Clever son-of-a-gun had jumped into the truck bed, loaded all the shotguns and was firing them from the roof of the truck at the blinded demon in front of us.

Phil’s gun ran empty, and he ducked into the truck, where he pulled a giant chrome revolver from the glove box. “Tony!” he called, lifting a hand.

Tony tossed him a shotgun– my shotgun, I noticed- and Phil fired two rounds into the beast and threw it back up to Tony for reloading. Phil then moved to the front passenger’s side of the truck, knelt, and leveled his gun at the vampire, who was already healing from his traumatic wounds.

BANG! BANG! Two massive .44 rounds struck the vampire in the chest and head. Phil fired the remaining four rounds and dove into the truck to reload.

My gun’s slide locked back; I was completely out. Josh, who was next to me, fired two more rounds and then went empty too. The vampire seemed to notice this immediately. It turned to face us, oblivious to Ryan shooting frantically at it from between the truck’s headlights and Tony shelling it from the roof.

Almost too quick for us to see, the vampire sprinted towards us. I barely had time to draw my knife before it was there. Josh, a good 50 pounds heavier than me, jumped in front of me to block the vampire. It batted him into the side of the truck as if he weighed nothing. I slashed frantically at the undead beast but missed, and it seized me around the neck and lifted me into the air.

Everything I read about vampire flashed through my head in that one second. Vampires are killed by silver bullets, vampires only come out at night, vampires turn people into other vampires by biting them–Oh, Lordy, this is not how I want to die . . .

BOOM! Good old Tony. He had fired into the vampire from the roof at point blank range, blowing half of its head off. The vampire dropped me, shrieking with rage, and leapt up on the roof. Tony smashed its head in with a shotgun butt and leaped off the other side. As the vampire moved to pursue him, Phil shot it twice from below.

I caught my breath and got my bearings. Next to me, Josh was shaking his head like an angry bull.

“Damn thing. I haven’t been tackled like that since I was a freshman in high school.”

I grinned. Good old Josh. We heard Phil fire twice more from the far side of the truck, and the vampire screamed in rage.

“It’s not healing!” Phil shouted, “It’s dying! Come on, let’s kill this mother____er!”

These words gave us both energy. Josh and I stood up on shaky legs and looked into the truck bed. A Mossberg 500 and a Remington 870 sat there  on top of their cases, both empty. “Load ‘em up,” I ordered, throwing one and a box of shells to Josh. Phil fired his last two rounds, from the front of the truck now, and Tony’s Kimber and Ryan’s Taurus 1911 joined in.

Josh and I finished loading the shotguns and we topped them off. We sprinted to the front of the truck. “On three!” I shouted, “Shoot for its head on three! One, two, th-”

We never got to three. The beast leaped forward, almost as if it sensed our plan, and grabbed Josh. Josh yelled in fear, kicking the vampire repeatedly as it dragged him backwards. I held the shotgun, unable to fire for fear of hitting Josh as he drew his hunting knife from his holster and took off the hand gripping him. The vampire shrieked and pounced.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Josh was raising his hunting knife, ready to stab the demon in the chest when it simply drew back its fist and punched him straight through the skull. There was a sickening popping noise, and Josh was dead.

Josh. No . . . No. You f___ing bast___ vampire! None of us could say or do anything as the vampire deliberately pulled its brain-coated fist out of Josh’s skull and ran its tongue over it. This horrific act brought us back to reality. We all leveled our guns and fired at once. This time, true to what Phil had said, the bullet holes remained. The vampire collapsed to its knees beside Josh’s horribly mutilated corpse, weaving drunkenly. Tony, Ryan, and Phil emptied their guns into the beast. As soon as their slides locked back, I ran forward.

“See how you like this, blood-sucker!” I screamed, “Go to hell!” I slammed the barrel of the Mossberg into its mouth. “Say hi to the Devil and all his damn friends!” I pulled the trigger over and over, pumping the action unconsciously. Four rounds later, the vampires head was all but separated from its body.

I stepped back, fearful that it would just get up again. The other three guys stepped up next to me. No one had any more weapons, not even a knife. We watched as the vampire’s red eyes slowly blinked at us . . . and then dissolved. The undead corpse melted in front of our eyes, and the vampire was gone, leaving behind nothing but a twisted, blackened skeleton.

I turned to look at Tony, who for once, had no smart remarks. “Hell, man,” he said shakily. “Hell.”

I nodded in silent agreement, and then my legs wouldn’t hold me anymore, and I collapsed. Before everything went dark, I saw blue flashing lights coming down the road. Heh. Police. Just after the nick of time . . . they’re gonna have a whole lot of fun identifying what happened here . . . Wait . . . what did really happen here? Then everything went dark.


See what I mean?  

[moose42]

Nice frantic action.

[rjohnson4405]

Read the whole thing and really liked it. Keep it up!

[CameronS]

Nice frantic action.

Thanks. I tried to portray how some average (albeit heavily armed) guys would react when confronted by something hostile that just won't die.

Read the whole thing and really liked it. Keep it up!

Thanks! Chapter Six will probably be written by the end of today.

[sarge712]

The best vampire kill yet. Like was said about Friday the 13th's Jason, blow off the head and its hard to spread hate and discontent.

Glad it wasn't a zombie; I'm sick of zombies.

Good job

[Avenger29]

Fing AWESOME!

MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE!

[Raptor]

HOLY FRACKING SCHNITZ!

This is EPICALLY AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[CameronS]

Glad you guys like it. Reading your responses made my day.

Here's Chapter 6. Warning: pack a lunch.


Chapter 6 – The Monster Control Bureau

. . . Bright blue flashing lights. Screaming highway patrolmen . . . bright lights, a gurney, a female paramedic pounding on my chest. She was cute. I smiled at her. She looked surprised and said something to me . . . being wheeled down a hallway, bright lights, IV bags . . . men in masks fading quickly . . .

I woke up in a hospital bed. I felt groggy and stiff, and had a foul taste in my mouth and a headache. I tried to remember how I got there, and it all came rushing back. My headache disappeared as I looked for a call button or something. I found it on my pillow and pushed it. A few moments later, a nurse came in the doors. She smiled pleasantly.

“Good to see you’re awake. How are we feeling today?”

I tried to find my voice, but my tongue wouldn’t work. I smiled and mouthed Good at the nurse. She nodded, appearing pleased by my seeming laryngitis.

“Excellent. Excuse me, please; I need to get the doctor to come see you. Someone will be in here in a moment.”

She left and another nurse, a guy this time, replaced her. He helped me sit up and gave me some water from a straw. The doctor came in as I finished.

“Hello, Mr. Dimholdt, I’m Dr. Eric Martin.” We shook hands. “How are you feeling?” he inquired.

I found my voice this time. “Not bad, considering . . . considering what happened.”

“I see!” Dr. Martin wrote something on his chart. “Do you remember what did happen?”

I thought. Had we really been attacked by a vampire? Was it all a dream? Maybe I’d been in a car accident on the way home from work . . . No. No way. I decided to make something up. This wasn’t very easy on a morphine-laden mind.

“Car accident . . . T-boned by a truck.” The nurse looked puzzled and shot the doctor a look. He returned it. “Something wrong?” I asked.

“No, not at all! It’s just that your injuries are very . . . irregular . . . for someone who’s just been in a car accident.”

I tried to look innocent. Dr. Martin scribbled some more hieroglyphics on his chart and looked up. “Well, unless you have any concerns–”

“I don’t,” I interjected.

“–Then I’m afraid I have some sad news for you,” he finished.

Something dropped in my stomach. “Josh?” I asked quietly.

“I’m afraid so,” he responded.

“Damn,” I whispered quietly, “What can you tell me?”

“Only that he’s gone, I’m afraid. The police can fill you in on the remaining details. However, they did tell me it looks as if he died from blunt force trauma to the head.”

I grunted. Blunt force trauma . . . sure. Vampire-force trauma, more like. “When can I talk to the police?” I asked.

“Not for a while, I’m afraid,” Dr. Martin replied, dismissing the nurses and getting ready to leave himself. “Some other men need to talk to you first.”

“Who? Coroner? His harpy of an ex-wife?”

“Neither. I believe they’re FBI, but they didn’t really say. I believe that’s them at the door right now, so have a nice day, Mr. Dimholdt.”

I bid Dr. Martins goodbye and then greeted my next two visitors. They were two guys, one black and one white, both dressed in conservative suits. The black guy looked in his late twenties, early thirties, and the white one a little older than that. They each looked fairly pleasant, but they also looked like they meant business. They flipped open their wallets, identifying themselves as federal agents. The black one introduced himself as Edward, and the white guy introduced himself as Gene.

“What can I do for you guys?” I asked as I shifted my position. The morphine was already starting to wear off and my ribs were aching.

“Can you tell us what happened two days ago?” Gene inquired.

“Huh?”

“I apologize, I forgot you’ve been unconscious. The incident in question occurred two days ago.”

“Yeah, sure. Uh, I- I mean, me and a couple friends got in a car accident. What’s this abou–” Gene cut me off.

“Let’s declare this a no BS zone,” he stated calmly, leaning back in his chair, “Two days ago, you and four of your companions, one since deceased, were attacked by a Class Delta vampire, correct?”

“Huh? I mean, what? Vampires? This isn’t sci-fi, this is reality.”

“As are vampires,” Ed said, “You and your friends killed one, correct?”

“Hey, it was self-defense. He tried to do us in first.”

“Fine. But you were attacked.”

“Yeah. How do you know about vampires? Are there more of them?”

Ed burst out laughing. “Are there more? Gods, yes. There are probably dozens scattered all over the world today, and other creatures, too.”

“‘Others?’”

“Yes. Not only are there vampires, there are werewolves, Nagas, Yetis, wights, ghouls, several different varieties of zombies, and- . . . others.” He finished rather lamely after a warning glance from Gene. I still got the picture that he was enjoying shattering my reality.

I was silent as I digested this fantastical information. “How do you know all this?”

“Were from the MCB,” Gene answered. “Monster Control Bureau. Our job is to neutralize these threats to national security.”

“So you kill these things . . .”

“. . . And unfortunately, those infected by them. Yes.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means, Mr. Dimholdt, that you are in a bit of a tight spot.” Edward jumped in. “Judging by the bruises and abrasions on you and your friends, you all were in fairly close quarters to a Class Delta vampire. As I’m sure you’re aware, humans become vampires by being bitten by them. It’s unclear at the moment whether or not any of the numerous cuts on your body were caused by the vampire’s fangs. We have, however, taken a blood sample, and are awaiting results now.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that sometime within the next half hour, we will find out whether you or any of your friends have been infected. Normally, your lack of any semblance of a throat would tell whether or not you’d been bitten, but since you were so close, we can’t afford to take any chances. I’m sorry.”

“So you’re just going to kill me?” For whatever reason, my voice had gone several octaves higher.

“Not now. However, if the results come back positive, you will have to be put down.”

I fell silent again. They were going to shoot me? Just for being close to a vampire? How was that fair? Then a thought hit me, and I almost grinned.

“You’re welcome to try,” I told the two MCB agents, “From what I saw of that Weta Class bast___, you can shoot me as many times as you want and I’ll be just fine.”

“Delta Class,” Gene corrected me, “And no, I’m afraid not. You will not become fully infected with the vampire curse until you are physically dead. Even then, it has the sun has to be down for  you to resurrect. If we terminate you before then, you will die and not come back.”

“Oh.” I looked around the room, feeling rather depressed, “Guess I’m helpless, then, huh?”

“I’m very sorry. It is for the best, though . . . you would not want to spend eternity as a vampire.” Gene trailed off, looking rather sad.

I tried to think of something to say. I wanted to understand more.

“You said Delta Class vampire.”

“That’s correct.”

“What’s that mean?”

“There are four threat classifications of vampire: Delta, Charlie, Bravo, and Alpha. Delta is a baby; a vampire under six months old. From six months to a year, it’s a Charlie. One year to  five years, it’s a Bravo. At some unknown point after that, a vampire becomes an Alpha, or Master Vampire. They’re extremely rare and all but invincible.”

I tried to digest this. “So we killed a baby vampire? Just a baby? It took all of us and a freaking truck to kill a baby?!”

Ed laughed quietly. “Yes. Vampires of any classification are the strongest of the undead. They’re cruel, cold, calculating, and almost always hungry.”

“How many others are there?” I asked eagerly, “How did the vampire we killed come to be?”

Ed and Gene traded looks. “We can’t say,” Gene said for the two of them. “Classified. Suffice it to say that the vampire that created the vamp you killed is in the same area.”

“Are you going to kill it?” I asked, getting angry at the thought of the night demon responsible for Josh's death still on the prowl.

“Eventually.”

“‘Eventually?’” I asked, getting even angrier, “Eventually? What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“Calm down, Mr. Dimholdt,” Ed responded, not perturbed in the least. “That particular vamp is fairly low on MCB priority lists.”

“Low?! Come on! What could be more important than saving human lives?!”

“Dimholdt!” Ed said, rising from his chair now. I could see I had touched a nerve. “We are saving lives! That vampire, however, is not as dangerous as other priorities on the list!”

“Get real,” I said sourly, “What else is more important?”

“Try a goddamn zombie outbreak in–”

“Ed!” Gene interrupted warningly. Ed calmed down, looking slightly embarrassed at his outburst.

“Sorry, Gene. He’s right, though, Mr. Dimholdt. We’ve said enough. I should add, however, that if you disclose any of this to any uncertified persons, you will be found in violation of the Unearthly Forces Disclosure Act, and prosecuted accordingly.”

I nodded, still fuming. Who’d believe me if I talked about his crap anyway?

The agents waited until I had calmed down a bit more, and then Ed spoke again. “However, Mr. Dimholdt, there is a positive side to all of this.”

I looked up. What could be positive about this?

“We normally don't do this, but-"

"Then why are you doing it for me?" I interrupted, still angry.

"Let's just say you've impressed some people. At any rate, there is a bounty on unnatural creatures such as the vampire you killed. It’s called the P-U-F-F."

“Puff?” I asked, puzzled.

“Perpetual Unearthly Forces Fund,” Ed answered. “Theodore Roosevelt started it when he was president. It’s basically a tool for controlling monster populations. It’s like a giant pot of money. You kill some undead creature, like that vampire, and you are rewarded a bounty.”

This was sounding better. “How much?”

“Total amount? $175,000.”

I couldn’t speak.

“However,” Ed continued, “Your cut is only $43,750. It had to be split five, I’m sorry, four ways.”

My elation at being rich suddenly died. Josh was just as dead and no amount of money would bring him back. Poor guy . . . heck of a way to go.

My ruminations were cut off by the sound of a cell phone vibrating. My heart rate suddenly skyrocketed. I’d forgotten about the test results.

Gene looked at me gravely, drawing his phone from his pocket and answering it. “Walters. It’s confirmed? Alright, thank you.”

He hung up the phone and turned to face me. I steeled myself for him and Ed to draw guns from under their coats. There was a moment of agonizing silence and then Gene broke into a smile.

“You’re clean!”

I collapsed back onto the pillows, my heart going a mile a minute. Gene and Ed both shook my (weak, shaky) hand. “Take care, Mr. Dimholdt, and consider yourself lucky,” Ed said cheerfully, “I have never known anyone to have tussled with a vampire that close and been uninfected.

Gene was next. “Enjoy your money, and oh, by the way, I forgot to mention that Mr. Urso, Mr. Jackson, and Mr. Carroll’s test results are all clean as well. For whatever reason, your results were delayed.” He bid me goodbye as he exited the room.

I was on cloud nine. I was $40,000 richer, my friends were okay, and I knew just what I was going to do with my money.

 . . . But first, I needed to talk to the other guys . . . and to carry out my plan, we’d all need to be strong . . . and to get strong, I’d need . . .

I punched the call button on my pillow, and the female nurse came back. “I’m hungry,” I said.


Shew. If you got through all that in one sitting, I take off my hat to you.

[Melbob]

Sweeeeet!  Time for some good ol' boys ta go huntin!   

[Grant]

  Damn awesome vamp-blasting

 And great to see another MHI fic! Keep this up and we'll hafta start a fan-book

[moose42]

Ok one question does the MCB actually kill carriers of vampirism?

Holly From MHI was infected but never threatened by the MCB.

[bmitchell]

How did Tony stay up until 4 if it was only 3 when they left?

Ben

[CameronS]

Ok one question does the MCB actually kill carriers of vampirism?

Holly From MHI was infected but never threatened by the MCB.

True . . .

Hmm. I didn't think of that. I assume, though, that they would keep tabs on them, or maybe even put them down if they were infected. I mean, picture this: Joe Blow gets bitten by a vamp at sixteen. Government lets him go. Ten years later, Joes dies in a car accident, resurrects in the morgue that night and hideously massacres everyone there before setting out on his new undead "life."

Or . . .

Joe Blow gets bitten by a vamp at sixteen. MCB puts him down quietly. No other lives lost.

I would assume the MCB would take the latter course of action. Just a guess, though.

[CameronS]

How did Tony stay up until 4 if it was only 3 when they left?

Ben

 

I'm a real idiot. Lemme fix that . . .

[CameronS]

Chapter 7 – A Talk

A few days later, they officially released me from the hospital. My ribs were still sore, but they said there was nothing to do but take pain meds and wait for them to heal. Once the paperwork was finished, I went straight down to see Tony, who, I was surprised to learn, could not speak.

“What do you mean, he can’t talk to me?” I asked his nurse indignantly.

“I mean,” she explained patiently, “His jaw is broken. His mouth is wired shut for the next week. He can write, though.”

I went into Tony’s room, where he was morosely watching the news. When he saw me, his face lit up and he shook my hand, grinning. He grabbed a notepad and a pencil from his bedside table and scribbled down, How r u?

“Not bad,” I replied, “You?”

Bin better.

“Yeah. How’d you break your jaw?”

When it was all over, I fainted and hit my jaw on the front bumper of the truck. Stupid.

“Heh. Survive a fight with an undead creature unscathed and hit your head afterwards. Poor Tony.”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“When they taking the wire out?” I inquired.

Chick nurse says 1 more wk.

“Hm. Hey, did the MCB guys talk to you yet?”

Y. Kinda one-sided.

I laughed. “They told you about all the other monsters in the world, though, right? What did you make of that?”

I’d say they were on pot, but . . .

“Yeah. I know.”

Weird.

“You get your money?”

Tony nodded enthusiastically.

“What you going to do with it?”

Pay debts, by car, by more reloading stuff and guns.

“Good to see your priorities are still in line.”

Y.

“Uh-huh. Did they tell you about the other vampire in the area?”

His eyes widened, and he tore off a sheet on his notebook and scribbled No on a new page.

“Yeah . . . said it’s the one that made the one we killed.”

Bast___.

“I know . . . they said they’re not even going to kill it yet . . . say they have ‘other priorities.’”

Bast___s.

“I’ve got a plan though.”

His eyes widened skeptically and he cocked his head to one side.

“We should kill it ourselves.”

Seeing as what happened last time we tried, that = bad idea.

“No, you don’t understand. I’m already looking up old legends about vampires. You kill them with a stake through the heart, or with silver bullets. With our money we can buy sterling silver and cast our own bullets, maybe even make some silver spears. We can kill this thing, man, once and for all!”

Tony seemed to be thinking hard.

“So what do you think?” I asked, “Are you in?”

A long pause, and then: F yes.

I clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. I’m going to go talk to Ryan and Phil now. Get them in on the plan. Get better quick, and call me when you’re out.”

Can do. Bye.

“Take care,” I said as I got up to leave.

My conversations with Ryan and Phil both went well. They were as enraged as I was about the Feds’ unwillingness to destroy the vampire, and just as eager to go along with my plan. There was one setback, though.

“I, uh, have a confession to make,” Phil said bashfully, “I already spent my money. Did it the day I found out.”

“You what?!” I yelped, shocked. “How the heck do you spend 40k in one day?!”

“I finished off my school bill, my car payment, and put some into my house payment.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t spend all of it, though,” Phil said, sounding a little more upbeat.

 “How much do you have left?”

“About $2,500.”

“Holy cow, man. I mean, I guess those are good ways to spend your money, but . . . Gosh.”

“Thanks for your support,” Phil grinned. I couldn’t help it, and laughed.

“When do you get out?” I asked.

“Tomorrow,” he replied, “We can meet then, talk about logistics.”

“I’d like that. It might be better, though, if we waited for Tony first. He gets out in about a week, and then we can meet at someone’s place and talk it over.”

“Okay, I can do that. Nice talking to you.”

“Same. See you later.” I walked out of the hospital, my sadness over Josh’s death now replaced by steely resolve. Next time we ran into a vampire, we were going to be ready.

[Splodge Of Doom]

Niiiice...

I like the track of them going it alone, rather than being recruited by MHI right off the bat.

[CameronS]

Niiiice...

I like the track of them going it alone, rather than being recruited by MHI right off the bat.

Glad you like it!


Chapter 8 – Logistics

True to the nurse’s word, Tony was released from the hospital a week later. We all celebrated by hitting a steakhouse, where we mocked his near inability to chew, and then headed back to my place to talk.

“Okay,” I said, standing up, “Here’s the situation. We’re going to kill the vampire, but we’ll need money to do that. How much does everyone have left? I’ve got $30,000 even.

“10,” was Tony’s response. I looked at him exasperatedly. “What the heck did you buy?” I asked.

“Full-auto AK-47. It’ll get in next week.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“And paid some debts and bought a car.”

“That works. Okay, ten from Tony, thirty from me, that’s forty.”

“I’ve got $2,500,” Phil grinned.

“I’ve got 38,” was Ryan’s response.

“Great. That’s $80,500. Tidy sum. First thing we should, do, though, is buy silver. And not just any silver; we’re going to need as pure as we can get. Any idea where we can get that?”

Everyone thought for a moment, and then Phil spoke up, “My grandmother used to collect silver. Her favorite was a spoon made from Fine silver, whatever that is. We can look into that, I guess.”

“Let’s look it up,” Tony suggested, and we gathered around the computer. I looked it up on Wikipedia first.

“Fine silver,” I read, “99.9% pure. Yep, that’s what we want.”

“How much is it?” Ryan asked. I scrolled further down the page.

“Looks like it fluctuates daily, like gold. Around now, though, it’s . . . $18.22 an ounce. How much is an ounce?”

“1/16 of a pound,” Tony informed me, “We’re going to be blowing a lot of money on silver.”

“How much are you going to need?” I asked him as we all abandoned the computer and headed back to the living room.

“Me?”

“What I was thinking is that you can cast silver bullets and then reload them so we can shoot them.”

“Badass idea. Hmm . . . going by the different sizes of bullets . . . how many different guns are we going to use, anyway?”

Ryan jumped in enthusiastically. “Our handguns are either going to be in 9mm or 45. Some silver hollowpoint slugs for our 12 gauges wouldn’t be a bad idea, and some buckshot would be nice, too. You’re going to want some 7.62 for your AK, we might even want some .308 for a long-range rifle, and a FAL or two. I’m looking at a Class III version of one of those.”

Tony looked slightly pale at the amount of work he had in front of him. “So?” he asked.

“So . . . 2,000 ounces to start with sound about right? We’re going to have to count on a couple mess-ups on the way, so we’re going to need some wiggle room.”

“A lot of mess-ups, more like, seeing as I have no clue how to melt silver. But yeah, 2,000 should be good,” Tony replied.

“Okay,” I jumped back in, “2,000 ounces of fine silver to start. We’re also going to need a complete blacksmith’s forge for melting and casting this stuff. I’ll do that. Ryan, you can look into where we can get molds to make buckshot, slugs, and bullets.”

“Don’t know if I can do that. The market for molding your own shotgun slugs has got to be kind of small. I can get a CNC machine, however, and we can make our own. It won’t be cheap, though, and neither will the blank molds.”

“Screw it. We’ve got 80k to spend.” I grinned wolfishly at him, and he smirked back. “So! The price of the silver will be–” I punched it in on a calculator, “–Holy balls . . . $36,440. Yikes. I’ll take care of the silver buying and the forge. Everyone else clear on what they’re supposed to do?”

"I don't have anything to do, so I'll look into guns," Phil said, "Let me know what you want, and I can sniff around."

"Sounds good. Everyone good with all this?"

Everyone nodded except Tony. “What do I do?” he asked.

“Start researching how to work a forge, melt silver, and cast silver bullets,” Phil chuckled, “Trust me, man, you’ve got the hardest job.”

Tony looked downright dangerous as he replied, “It’s worth it.”

Everyone filed out of my apartment into the night, already eager to get started. Meanwhile, I picked up the phone. I needed a stockbroker.